Putting cows on the front page since 1885.
Putting cows on the front page since 1885.
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The next place on our Curryville road memory tour is the Farm Bureau. I think I got to know all the employees, as I kept tabs on all activities there. My aunt worked there. My mother helped grade potatoes and eggs. Freddie helped build chicken cages there. Their gas storage area was behind Clapper’s garden and I could see the trucks fill up from my house. My favorite trucker was Ed Henry who whistled so beautifully. I could hear him from my bedroom window early in the mornings. One of my t...
The next house was Rev. Clyde Bush's family. They had two daughters, Carolyn and Lois. Carolyn was a dear friend of mine. I played at their house often. Clyde had only one arm and I was amazed that he just went about life as though he didn't even know it was missing. They were a loving family. It was always comforting when I visited at Carolyn's home. Next was where my classmate, Bobby Ritchey, lived. His father, "Bud" ran Curry Supply. His mother, Sara, was my Sunday School teacher. She was...
Our Curryville tour now has us at the two-room school house. The school house (shown right) is directly across the road from the church. That building is now a community room owned by the church. The original blackboards, doors and wood paneling are still there. Sunday School classes and many events are held there. Local ladies gather on Tuesdays to make quilts, stitch by stitch with loving hands. Robert (Bobbie) Ritchey and I were the only ones in the first and second grades. When I told...
The Curryville Church of the Brethren was where I was groomed for an amazing life. My pastor, Rev. Earl Ziegler, asked me to be the song leader at our church camp, Camp Harmony in Hooversville. I loved teaching the songs and getting all the voices to blend. I especially liked the rounds and I was tickled when each section sang their parts giving a beautiful ring that complemented the great campfires around which we sang. We often hiked to the top of a hill where we and nature seemed to sing to...
As we take my memory tour through the village of Curryville, we come to the first residence after Burget’s Garage, the Gartland house. Eva and Harold Gartland had a son, Gary. They had a ping pong table on their second floor. I liked Gary but wasn’t sure about being alone with a boy I liked, so didn’t go there too often even though I loved to play ping pong. A road went back beside the Gartlands to the Hinish home and orchard. They had four boys, Dean, Bernard, Joe and Wayne. I liked Bernard. He...
My tour of Curryville happened many times a day. I walked through Curryville on my way to and from school. I rode my bike the whole length of Curryville to deliver the Altoona Mirror. I checked things out as though it was my job. I noticed what flowers were blooming. If I saw a new car or someone using a power lawn mower, that was something I had to report to anyone interested. The only store was Burget’s Store next to the train track. We called it Snobbies. Mr. Ira Burget would not sell you s...
Our Curryville house was humble, but it was a fun and love-filled place. The cellar was alive. The coal bin, the raised bins for potatoes. Many shelves held hundreds of jars with canned peaches, pears, tomatoes, tomato juice, beans of many varieties, corn, pickled beets and jellies. A mix of any vegetables left after the final harvest were pickled. A little turmeric was added to make it yellow, and we called that Piccadilly. There were often large crocks of sauerkraut and root beer. Dad and Fred dug under the kitchen which expanded our cellar....
The whole Curryville Village raised me, but my parents, Robert and Virginia, were the most influential. I never heard anything negative directed to me. There were no put downs or belittling. Before I left the house they would tell me how nice I looked. They praised things I did in church or wherever. If I didn’t hear it, I knew I should do better. I truly was raised on praise. We matured fast because dad would let us know we were responsible—we were in charge. He told us we could play ball in...
Winter in Curryville gave us all the excitement we could handle. Sledding was a serious sport. If our sleds were in good condition and the snow was packed just right, we could make it from the top of the hill the whole way down to our house. It was quite the hill to us then. However, seeing it now, it is just a slight grade, not really a hill at all. Amazing how monstrous things are when one is small. Curryville was just right for us. It was all we needed. Sometimes the snow drifts were so big...
We had a room off our living room that we called the music room. In that special room was a pump organ which mother had played in the Smithfield Church of the Brethren when she was young. I often wondered who purchased that organ when mom and dad had a sale before they moved to Harrisburg. I was in Arizona at my Brethren Volunteer Service project. Mother played the most beautiful pieces on the organ and our piano. Dad loved to sing while she played. It was to be that in their later years when...
The squeak and pause, squeak and pause of the porch swings in Curryville were very comforting to me. It meant that my neighbors were massaging their bodies and souls after a good days work. To me the sound of those swings in summer evenings meant that all was well and just as it should be. Curryville is a tiny village in Blair County, Pa. There were about 100 people there when I lived there. I often said when I left in 1956 to join Brethren Volunteer Service, there were 99 people left. According...
